


Bits and Pieces

by caswell



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-01-13 00:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 12,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18457589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: A collection of DEH ficlets based on Tumblr prompts, originally posted on my Tumblr, techconsigliere.





	1. Things You Didn't Say At All

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to another ~*~Tumblr Prompts Fic~*~  
> This probably won't have as many parts to it as my BMC one, simply because a) i started like a year and a half later and b) I don't often get DEH promps, but I don't want to publish them each individually, so.  
> Check the end notes for stuff on how to give me prompts.
> 
> Also: TW for suicide in this first chapter.

Evan doesn't tell Jared about the attempt. Not at first.

He doesn't tell anybody about the attempt, actually, not even Dr. Sherman, who he's supposed to tell everything to. He fell out of a tree, that's all. He just fell. 

Still, there's something in his gut that aches to let the secret out when Jared comes over for a quick homework sesh for AP Stats. Being around other people while maintaining the silence apparently helps Jared study, and Evan's not going to complain about bonding with another human being for once in his life. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Jared asks about half an hour in, glancing up from his textbook as his pencil stills on the paper. 

Evan blinks and shakes his head, laughing the accusation off. “What're you talking about? I'm not- I'm not looking at you.”

Jared snorts a dry huff of laughter in a way that's  _ so  _ typical of him. It's a little endearing, honestly. “You're  _ totally _ looking at me. Actually, you kinda look like you wanna barf.” With narrowed eyes and a smirk on his face, he adds, “Nervous to be in the presence of such an Adonis?”

Evan gives Jared a flat look and says, “Sure. No, um… I really wasn't looking at you, or, at least, I didn't mean to be…” He taps his palms- which are beginning to sweat- on the carpet as he speaks, which doesn't help his ‘not nervous’ case. “So, um, how's math going?” he asks, deflecting.

Jared eyes him suspiciously for another moment, then shrugs. “Fine, I guess.”

“Did you finish #12?”  _ I tried to kill myself. _

“Yep.” 

“Can you help me with it?”  _ I didn't fall; I jumped.  _

“Yeah, sure.”

“Here, what am I doing wrong?”  _ I tried to snap my own neck. _

“Uh, I think you mixed up population variance and variance of population portion.”

“How do I fix it?”  _ I could be dead right now. _

“Change the equation from σ2 = Σ ( Xi - μ )2 / N to σP2 = PQ / n and redo it.”

“Great, thanks.”  _ I  _ want  _ to be dead right now. _

Except, that's not really true, is it? With a blink of surprise, it occurs to Evan that he's almost content here. What is it? Is it the math? No, he doesn't really like math- at least, not stats. Is it sitting on the floor? That's sort of insignificant. He sneaks a look back up at Jared, who's gone back to his own homework, and something occurs to him.

There's something about the way Jared's tongue pokes out of his lips, or maybe the way he's hunched over his textbook and worksheet, or maybe the way he's run his hand through his hair enough that it's tufted in some places, that feels like home. Huh. 

Is this love? It's warm and fuzzy, yeah, but… he loves Zoe, not Jared. Jared's just a friend- a  _ family  _ friend, he corrects himself internally. But is it impossible to love both?

“What is it? For real, Evan, you're giving me the creeps.”

Evan shakes his head, flapping one hand as he so often does. “It's nothing, I promise.”

Jared hums in acknowledgement and says, “Whatever. Let's just get back to work- I'm losing focus.”

Against all odds, Evan's mouth quirks up into a genuine smile. He doesn't need to tell Jared, not right now- not about the attempt, and not about these weird feelings he's apparently having. That can wait for some other time.

Right now, it's just the two of them, and that's what matters.

 


	2. "What if one day I wake up and you don't?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide.

Evan awakens with a gasp into a dark room, the shadows of bare branches falling across him through the window. He closes his eyes tight and sighs out, then inhales chilly air. Glancing to the left, he notes that he didn’t wake Jared- no surprise there; the guy sleeps like a log. 

The thoughts running through Evan’s head, however, are too big, too scary for one person to handle. Here’s the dilemma: he could wake Jared up at- he checks the alarm clock- 3:16 in the morning and face his pre-coffee wrath,  _ or  _ sit here and try to recover from his nightmare by himself.

One of the many, many, many many many things that make it hard to be himself is that Evan has nightmares and stress dreams pretty often. Sometimes they’re nondescript, forgotten upon waking up, but other times, they’re so real he can taste them. This one was one of the latter.

_ Evan calls out his name, once, twice, but that doesn’t stop him. Jared continues to scale the tree, face blurred, unreadable from where Evan stands yards and yards away. He tries to run, run for the tree and climb it too, or at least to stand under the tree and catch Jared somehow, but his muscles are frozen, paralyzed; he can't even begin to move.  _

_ And then Jared falls. _

That's where he woke up, right when Jared hit the ground with a nauseating  _ crack.  _ (Would Jared have felt the same way if he'd succeeded, if he'd been the one who snapped? Probably not.)

Gently, tentatively, Evan reaches out and presses two fingers to the underside of Jared's jaw. Blood pumps through the vein there, and Evan exhales in relief. Sure, Jared's breathing- snoring, actually- but the warmth of his living body is the only thing that can soothe Evan right now.

“What the hell are you doing?”

With a shriek, Evan starts and backs away to his side of the bed. “Oh, sorry,” he says, voice hushed. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“Well, it's pretty hard to not wake up when you're fingering my jugular,” Jared grumbles, throwing an arm over his face in a dramatic display of grumpiness. “Why are you up, anyway?”

“I had a bad dream,” Evan says, and worries his lower lip.

Jared uncovers his face and gazes at Evan with a softer expression, brows knitted in concern. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Evan shakes his head vigorously, closing his eyes. “No, no, you can go back to sleep, I don't want to bother you…” 

“You're clearly having some problems, like, existing right now.” Jared raises one arm and beckons for Evan, and Evan obeys, laying his head on his chest. “Are you sure you don't want to talk it out?” Jared asks as he begins to rub his back.

Evan takes a deep breath in, then lets it out in a miserable sigh. “Just… what if one day I wake up and you don't?” 

Jared's hand stills on Evan's skin. “What are you talking about?” he asks. “Like I'm just gonna up and die?”

“...I dreamt you killed yourself,” Evan says, voice even smaller than he feels. “You jumped out of that tree.”

Jared's hand travels to Evan's shoulder, which he massages, though the knots don't quite go away. “I would never do that,” he promises. “Really. I've never even really… thought about that.”

“Well, it doesn't have to be-” Evan lowers his voice-  _ “suicide.  _ Just, I dunno, anything. I don't want you to leave.”

Jared scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, right. I'm invincible.” 

“Just take this one thing seriously? Please?” Evan sighs, closing his eyes as he presses his face against Jared's bare chest. Muffled, he adds, “It scared me.”

“I'm sorry,” Jared says, and sounds genuine. “Just… I'm not going anywhere, okay? Swear to God.”

“You don't even believe in God.”

“Then I swan to John or whatever. Seriously, Evan.” Jared cups the side of Evan's head, turning it up toward him, and, even after years of dating Jared, a light blush spreads over Evan's face. “I'm not gonna die. For real.”

“If you say so,” Evan says, only partially convinced.

“You worry so much.” It's a very unoriginal observation. “Can I kiss you? Will that help you feel better?”

Evan snorts. “You really don't have to ask. C'mere.”

Sitting there in their bed, lips pressed to Jared's, Evan thinks that maybe,  _ maybe  _ things might be alright.


	3. "You make me feel alive."

The thing about him and Jared, Connor thinks as he runs a hand through the aforementioned boyfriend's hair, is that they don't really fit anywhere else. Well, maybe that's untrue- maybe Jared would fit with someone else- but Connor? No way. It's Jared or nothing. And honestly, Connor is fine with that.

“What're you thinking about?”

Connor opens his eyes and glances to his right, where Jared is huddled up against him. He's got one arm on Connor's chest, gently rubbing it through the oversized band t-shirt he’s shrugged on (which might actually be Jared’s, now that he thinks about it). His eyes are closed, and he’s clearly half asleep, but that won’t stop him from talking.

“Nothing much,” Connor says, and sighs, though it’s not an exhausted one like most of them are. Sighs can mean plenty of different things; this one, of course, is tender. 

“No, you’re definitely thinking,” Jared says, and cracks one eye open, a smile spreading across his tired features. “Out with it.” His hand stills on Connor’s chest, and, if only to regain the comforting touch, Connor spills his guts.

“I was thinking… I don’t fit in anywhere else,” he explains, letting his eyes fall shut. Instinctively, he uses his free hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. “Nobody else really wants me. I mean, you see the way people steer clear of me at school.” Jared nods against his arm, so he keeps going. “And… Zoe hates me, my parents don’t get me. You’re the only person I’ve got.”

Jared hums in acknowledgement and presses impossibly closer. “Well, I’m glad to be here for you,” he says, and yawns. 

“No, you don’t get it,” Connor says. He swallows, ponders his words for a moment. It’s hard to say what he feels- a major factor in therapy not working for him- but what better moment than this, all the lights off, just lying there together? He clears his throat, already self-conscious even before speaking, but finally manages it: “You… make me feel alive.”

Connor’s heart falls when Jared gives a soft huff of laughter, but, when the gentle touch of Jared’s lips alights on his cheek, he can’t keep back a smile. “Aw, look at you, being a sap,” Jared says, and brings his hand up to run a thumb along Connor’s opposite cheekbone. It stills, though, when he asks, “...Does that mean you feel dead most of the time?”

Connor sighs again, this time with a hint of melancholy. “I… guess?”

Jared’s hand travels back to Connor’s chest, where he continues rubbing gentle circles into it. “Then I’m glad I can make you feel something.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, voice no more than a murmur, “I’m glad, too.” A pause. “...Jared?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I love you.”

This time, it’s Connor’s lips that are graced with a kiss. From a centimeter away, Jared whispers, “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bud Kayla drew some really cute art for this fic! Go check it out!  
> https://kkamikazed.tumblr.com/post/184450731818/i-did-that-one-part-from-ur-oneshot-in-particular


	4. "You're the one thing keeping me sane right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide and self harm/cutting.

When Connor calls him up at one in the morning on a school night, Jared knows something is wrong- perhaps lethal. Connor had warned him, going into their relationship, that he's suicidal on a semi-regular basis, but this is the first time he'd called him like this. Is it a note?

“Hey, Connor,” he says when he picks up, stretching out the  _ hey  _ in a futile effort to sound like he's not panicking. “What's up?”

There's silence on the other end for a few moments. Then, with a voice constricted with tears, Connor answers,  _ “I think I might break tonight.” _

Shit. Double shit.  _ Triple  _ shit. Jared sits straight up in bed, rubbing one eye with his free hand. “Talk to me,” he says- no, begs. “What's wrong?”

As Connor takes a deep breath and sighs it out, harsh static hits Jared's ear.  _ “I'm cracking,”  _ he says.  _ “I've  _ been  _ cracking. And nobody notices.” _

“‘Cracking’?” Jared repeats.

_ “I've been cutting. A lot. Wherever my clothes cover it.” _

Well, that explains a lot. Connor doesn't really come off as a prude, but he'd still never let Jared undress him or do anything more than kiss him deeply. This must be why.

“How can I help?” Jared asks as he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Should I call someone?”

_ “Just- just stay on the line,”  _ Connor says, begging right back.  _ “You're the one thing keeping me sane right now.” _

The words hit Jared square in the chest like a bullet, making his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Of course he'll do it- he'd do anything for Connor- but the pressure is on now. “I'm right here for you, okay?” he says, desperately wishing he could reach out and hold Connor, press him tight to his chest and promise that he'll be okay. 

_ “Yeah, okay,”  _ Connor says, and sighs again.  _ “I don't- I don't know why I'm like this.” _

“You don't deserve it.”

_ “I know. But I still have it.” _

Jared is silent for a few moments before he says, meaning it with all his heart, “I love you.”

_ “I love you, too.”  _ Connor's voice cracks midway through ‘love', and, in a couple seconds, Jared's heart breaks into a million tiny pieces as Connor gives a quaking sob.

“I'm coming over,” Jared says, already knowing he'd wake his parents up when he opens the garage door, but not particularly caring. “I think you need somebody.”

_ “...Yeah,”  _ Connor says.  _ “I think I do. I need  _ you,  _ Jared.” _

If it were under any other circumstance, Jared's heart would be warm, but right now, it just weeps. “I'm on my way, alright? I'm coming.”

_ “Please.” _

“Don't worry. I promise it'll be alright. I promise.”


	5. "I didn't want you to see this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide.

Connor stares blankly at the clock across the room, watching, waiting. Dread curls up into a ball in the pit of his stomach like a feral cat, seconds away from lashing out. Jared had called earlier to let her know that he and Evan were coming to visit him at 4:30; it’s now 4:25, and every second that goes by is another punch to the gut.

It’s not that Connor doesn’t want to see Jared and Evan. Of course he does! They’re his boyfriends. But he doesn’t want to see them in this state, not in the psych ward of all places. It’s humiliating, almost, that he couldn’t just do the damn thing, but Zoe just  _ had  _ to have woken up in the middle of the night to catch him grabbing meds from the bathroom cupboard. She’d woken up their parents, and they’d taken him to the hospital at three in the fucking morning to lock him up and make him do group therapy and shit. 

The clock ticks to 4:30, then to 4:31, then to 4:32. Connor can almost convince himself that Jared and Evan aren’t coming, that they forgot about him (as people are wont to do) or decided to abandon him. He turns away from the clock and toward the table, where the book another patient had lent to him lies face-down and splayed out. At least if nobody’s coming to see him, he could get some reading time in.

And then the doors to the ward open. “Connor?” Jared calls, and Connor, despite himself, perks up, back straightening. 

Evan’s voice, more subdued, also catches Connor’s ear: “Um, I guess I’ll check in, then.”

Jared appears a moment later, stepping into the common room and scanning the ragtag group of faces before his eyes land on Connor. Relief visibly floods him, and Connor can’t help but slightly mirror his smile, though his own flickers out in a moment. “Hey, Connor,” Jared says, elongating the first word, and strides over to take a seat across from him at the table. “What’s up?”

Connor shrugs and glances down at his book. “Uh. Not much.” After another moment of silence, “Been reading. It helps.” 

Jared nods sagely, not taking his eyes off of Connor. A few seconds later, Evan approaches, eyes darting around the room as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

“You don't have to be scared, Evan,” Connor says. He finally raises his gaze to look up at the two of them. “It's pretty chill in here, usually. Only a couple fights a day.”

“Oh… great…” Evan worries his lip, then asks, “Can we go to your room and talk in private or something?”

Connor shrugs and stands up, stretching his slender limbs with a small grunt. “I'm in number nine,” he says, gesturing toward a small, two-bed room. He blinks and glances down at Jared and Evan's hands, longing, but instead of reaching out, he simply turns around and heads for his room. 

Evan closes the door behind them as the three shuffle into the room. Connor doesn't have a roommate- not yet, anyway- so they don't have to chase anybody out and risk a squabble. 

“So,” Jared says, “um… how are you?”

Connor doesn't answer his question right away. Instead, he says, “I didn't want you to see this.”

Evan takes seat next to Connor on the bed and places a tentative hand on his shoulder. “See what?” he asks.

“All of this!” Connor answers, raising his voice just the slightest in frustration. Neither Jared nor Evan flinch away. “The walls. The food. The scrubs.” He pulls at the collar of his red-brown scrub top and grimaces.

“Why didn't you want us to see?” Jared asks. “Dude, this stuff doesn't scare us.”

“It scares me a little.”

“Not helping, Evan. Anyway- you're our boyfriend,” Jared says, and, almost mirroring Evan, places a hand on the small of Connor's back. “We're not judging you, I promise.”

“It's fine if you are,” Connor says. “I wouldn't blame you.”

“Well, we're not. I love you, alright, Connor?” There's a pause, a moment of silence, before Jared leans in to kiss Connor's cheek. Connor almost flinches away, not because he wants to but out of instinct, but Evan is kissing his other cheek now, and all he can do is accept the affection. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “For… uh, for everything.”

“Of course,” Jared and Evan say in unison, and, while Connor is quiet, withdrawn, all three of them chuckle at the coincidence.


	6. "I know it hurts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my friend Ithi's crust punk Connor AU; check out his fic, Saints and Sinners Alike (by knourish (OceanicWaters)) for more context.

Connor's breaths come light and rapid as he allows himself to be held- albeit loosely- in Jared’s arms. If he were dope-sick, his rocking him back and forth might be a problem, but right now, it actually helps. He closes his eyes, tries desperately to remind himself that he’s safe here, that Jared won’t hurt him and never has, but it only serves to confuse his tired brain even more.

“I know it hurts,” Jared says, voice no more than a whisper, and it occurs to Connor that they’re shaking. Whether it’s himself or Jared, he’s not sure. Maybe it’s both. 

And it  _ does  _ hurt. It hurts when the world comes crashing down on him, when he can no longer be the Atlas to an Earth that betrayed him. It hurts when the memories come flooding back (he was ten, he was even younger, he was  _??????how old was i when it all started??? _ for God's sake) and when the light goes out around him. Every atom in Connor's body is caught between running and curling against Jared's body until he's part of a whole again. 

Connor's not sure how long he'd been zoning out, but when he comes back to reality, Jared is whispering something over and over. With considerable effort, he strains to focus his hearing and tunes in, as it were: “...got you. I've got you. I've got you.” It's bizarre to hear from Jared Kleinman of all people- cocky, dickish, sometimes flippant. But he has a heart, no matter how many layers he keeps it under; nights like these, it shines through. 

“Thanks,” Connor says- rather, attempts to say; his throat is clotted with phlegm and tears. Great, another one of his crying spells. He clears his throat, swallows sticky phlegm, and repeats himself: “Thank you.” 

“Don't mention it,” Jared says. A moment later, “Really, don't. Evan would never let me live it down if he knew I had feelings.”

Connor huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Give it up, we all know it.” He takes one deep breath, then another, and finds himself almost feeling normal. Granted, his ‘normal’ is pretty awful compared to the average person, but it's better than crying. 

“That was quick,” Jared says when Connor slips out of his arms and sits next to him instead. “You good?”

Connor considers it for a moment. “Eggshell fine,” he eventually settles on. “No more crying. Just don't… I dunno, make any loud noises.”

Jared places a hand on Connor's back, and, after stiffening for a moment, he accepts it. “Good,” Jared says. He worries his lip, glances away like there's something else he wants to say but can't bring himself to. Connor knows the look well, has worn it himself plenty of times.

“Um. I'm tired, so I'm gonna… go to bed,” Connor says, scratching the raised scars on his inner arm. “You good?”

“Am  _ I _ good?” Jared barks out a laugh, but his cheeks are moist with tears. “Don't sweat it, okay? It's just an embarrassing Jared thing.”

Connor shrugs. “Alright, whatever.” He takes a shaky breath in and lets it out in a slow sigh. “...Well, g'night.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Connor.” Jared crosses the room to the door, and, with a last look back at Connor, flicks off the light.


	7. "You're holding back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no suicide tw this time. a legitimate shocker

If Jared truly expected Evan to not be a cold fish during his first kiss, he's delusional. Evan, body tense, presses his lips to Jared's tentatively, then breaks away a moment later. He stares at Jared, who's blushing to a lesser degree, and mumbles, “Sorry, I…”

“You're holding back,” Jared says, placing a hand on Evan's cheek and running a thumb along the bone there. “You're too nervous.”

“Aren't you?” Evan asks, and subconsciously leans into the touch.

Jared shrugs. “Yeah, but it's kinda beaten out by how much I've wanted to kiss you for the last, like, two years.” He clears his throat, clearly embarrassed, then adds, “So buck up, man; we don't have forever.”

Evan musters up a weak smile- though, don't get him wrong, he  _ is  _ happy- and nods. “Okay. Okay, I can do this,” he says, more to himself than Jared, and leans in again. This time, he forces himself to stay lip-locked for more than a few moments. Well, it's not that he's  _ forcing  _ himself to- he's been waiting to kiss Jared for ages- but it's nerve-wracking. It's his first kiss, for God's sake, and he's already messed it up. 

After a while, Jared breaks the kiss and says, “That's more like it.” He smiles back, eyes half-lidded, and places his free hand on Evan's other cheek.

Before he can quiet him with another kiss, though, Evan asks, “How did you get so good at this? I mean- how do you know what to do?”

“Eh…” Jared- much to Evan's disappointment- takes one hand away and scratches the back of his neck with it. “I've kinda sorta watched an exorbitant amount of rom-coms.”

“I thought you hate ‘straight people shit’.”

“In my defense, I'm usually wine-drunk when I do it.”

Evan hums, choosing to ignore the implications of that, and is soon distracted by Jared's hand returning to his face. “Can I…?”

“Go for it,” Jared says, still smiling that- for once- unreservedly loving smile, and Evan presses their lips together. 

It's only a matter of time before Jared tries to use tongue. Evan would be jazzed, but something holds him back- boundless, somewhat irrational inhibitions, he supposes. Gently, he pushes him away and says, “Wait, wait.”

Jared's face falls for a moment before he regains his composure. “No tongue?” he asks. “That's chill.”

Evan nods. “Sorry, I… it's just a lot, I guess?” He shrugs, averting his gaze. “Sorry again, y'know, to disappoint.”

“Hey,” Jared says, tilting Evan's head back to look at him, “it's okay.” His voice is so gentle, so tender, that it's hard to believe it's coming from Jared “The Asshole Friend” Kleinman. Still, relationship-wise he's never been anything good to him, so Evan's not that surprised. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to. We've got time.”

“I thought you just said we don't have forever.”

“Yeah, before my mom gets home,” Jared says. “But together? We have ages.”

Evan nearly swoons; instead, he gives a shaky, entirely enamored laugh. “Yeah,” he says, “we've got a long time.”


	8. "Remember when we were little?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another SNSA fic, check it out before you read this.

There are thousands of tiny bumps on the ceiling in Jared’s room. He gets about fifty in, eyes dragging from one to the next, before Connor squeezes his hand and draws his thoughts away. Jared turns his head toward him, taking in his sharp features, before asking, “What is it?”

Connor is silent for a long few moments. Then, quietly, he asks, “Remember when we were little?”

Jared nods.  _ He  _ does, but, as he learned when he first found Connor again- rather, when Evan did- Connor doesn’t. It broke his heart right there in the bookstore, because he knew Connor’s face like the back of his hand even after all these years, and he’d been erased. 

Things are better now.

“Will you tell me about it?” Connor presses, looking over at Jared finally.

Jared licks his lips as he ponders the question. Where should he start? They were best friends, the two of them- it can’t be summed up in a few sentences. “Well,” he says, “We were tight. Like, really tight.”

Connor gives a breathy chuckle that worms its way into Jared’s heart, just like everything he does. “Yeah, I gathered that,” he says. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Alright, jeez. Pushy, pushy.” Jared laughs as Connor nudges him in the shoulder, urging him further. “So, we would hang out in your attic a bunch, which was, like, super cool, because my old attic was just filled with insulation and stuff.”

Connor nods, turning his gaze back up to the ceiling. He still hasn’t let go of Jared’s hand. “What did we even do?” he asks. “I imagine there was a lot of music being listened to.”

Jared snorts. “Bingo. Back when I still listened to the radio instead of my specially curated Spotify playlists.” He doesn’t mention that he made a playlist about him. There’s two, actually- one from when he was still looking, and one from when Connor was found. 

“God, you’re so pretentious sometimes.” There’s no hint of malice in Connor’s voice, though, so Jared just laughs.

“Alright, whatever, Hot Topic. It’s not my fault nobody knows what good music is anymore.”

“Jesus. ...What else?” Connor scoots closer to Jared, clenching his hand even tighter, and Jared’s heart threatens to skip a beat or three. If you’d told him back when they were kids that he’d be in love with Connor, he’d deny it, but… it really does make sense.

“Uh, well. We had this sign up in the attic, ‘Kingdom of the best friends in the Universe’,” Jared answers, “but it was, like, totally misspelled. Because we were seven.”

Connor huffs a laugh again, eyes falling shut, and says, “You still are.”

“Huh?”

“My best friend in the universe.”

Involuntarily, Jared’s lips quirk up into a smile, and he looks away from Connor as if he’s the sun on a cloudless day. “Yeah,” he says, “you’re mine, too.”


	9. Basorexia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.

It’s not that Jared’s desire to kiss Evan is overwhelming. Okay, it totally is, but there are so many other, better words for it: unfortunate, irrational, silly, completely and irredeemably gay as hell… and that’s just for starters.

The Twilight Zone- one of his favorites- is playing on his flat screen TV, and he should be focusing on it, but instead, he keeps stealing glances out of the corner of his eye at Evan’s stupid, shitty lips. (Oh, who is he kidding? They’re great lips. Jared’s not sure if that’s objectively true, but it’s true to him, and that’s enough.)

“What’s with the look?” Evan asks about ten minutes into the episode, which features a gremlin on the wing of a plane.

“What? I’m not looking at you.” Jared snorts in mock amusement that he hopes covers up his rampant homosexuality. “I’m looking at that gremlin. He reminds me of you.”

Evan rolls his eyes, slowly and deliberately, then turns his gaze back to the screen. “First of all, you were totally looking at me,” he says. “Secondly, you’re a dick.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” Jared replies, kicking his feet up to rest them on Evan’s lap, and the smile that graces his face just drives home the fact that wow, if he doesn’t kiss him in the next five seconds, he’s going to fucking combust. Preferably deeply, but Lord, he’ll take a peck on the cheek.

Evan’s eyes flit over to where Jared sits, having forgotten to not stare, then in the opposite direction. “I do,” he says. “Love you.”

Jared is silent for a few long moments. Oh, sure, it could be taken as a friendly ‘love ya!’ type thing, but this is the first time in their friendship of over a decade that Evan has said that. Either way, it makes his heart do some absolutely stupid shit, like flip-flop repeatedly and jump into his throat before bungee jumping into his stomach. “Um.”

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, freak you out or anything-” Evan runs a hand through his hair, which only serves to endear Jared more- “I just… I don’t know what came over me, sorry…”

“No, God, uh, don't apologize,” Jared says, cocky facade breaking. “I love you, too.” And it's true no matter which way Evan means it; sure, although he wants to kiss Evan to death, he's loved him as a friend for years and years. Any version of love is better than nothing.

But then Evan licks his lips, and Jared's stupid wanting heart skips a beat. Before it occurs to him how big of a risk he's taking, he says, “Um, I'm going to do something. And you can stop me anytime, you can push me off and call me a dick and spit on me or whatever-”

“Oh, my God, Jared, just kiss me.”

This has got to be a dream. There's no way in hell Evan actually said that. Except there's an expectant look in Evan's eyes, and he's clearly starting to sweat, and… holy shit.

So he does the damn thing.

It takes a second of readjustment, but his lips are pressed against Evan's in moments, desperate hands cradling his cheeks. If this were a fanfiction he would've written to cope with his pent-up gay feelings as a middle schooler, he'd be waxing poetic about the taste of his lips, but they don’t… actually taste like anything. Jared’s fine with that, and anyway, the thought vanishes from his mind when Evan curls his fingers into his hair, earning him a, “Jesus, Evan. A little hasty, huh?”

“Oh, sorry, I-”

“Don’t be.”

For a long while, it’s silent beyond the sound of gratefully-given kisses, months- years, even- of hidden feelings bubbling to the surface. Then, when Jared finally breaks away, he murmurs again, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Evan says, and gazes, eyes half-lidded, at Jared like he puts the stars in the sky. For Evan, he would.


	10. "That's how the story goes." + "I told you not to fall in love with me."

Jared stares blankly ahead, not moving, only blinking once in a great while. He’s acutely aware of the weight of Evan’s head on his shoulder, and knows that Evan is just as aware of the pressure of his shoulder on his head. Neither of them say a word for a long few minutes before Evan breaks the silence. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

Jared huffs a breath of raw, humorless laughter. “Well, unfortunately for us, that’s how the story goes.” His heart is still pounding from kissing so desperately, as if he knew it was the last time, as if he knew this confession would make or break whatever little  _ thing  _ they had going on.

Evan nods, sandy hair brushing against Jared’s jaw in a way that threatens to drive him crazy. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Really, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, then.” Jared doesn’t say it to be a dick, it’s just what he’s thinking. Why would he want Evan to crush him under his heel with what he’s about to say next? ‘We can’t do this anymore because you caught feelings and now it’s weird’? ‘I’m just fooling around, you’re  _ actually  _ gay, and that’s gross’? He’d really, truly rather die.

Evan hums an affirmative, then sighs before falling quiet for another few minutes.

It’s Jared who pipes up this time. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and he is. He’s sorry that Evan got mixed up in all this bullshit. He’s sorry he developed feelings for him- both for Evan’s sake and his own. He’s sorry he even suggested the whole friends-with-benefits thing, even if they never got further than making out. (That, in itself, is pathetic. A whole fucking debacle and he didn’t even lose his virginity.) 

Jared is in disbelief at, but still doesn’t react to, what Evan says next: “It’s okay.” To drive it home, he reaches over and wraps a hand around Jared’s nearest arm, and Jared can’t help but heave a shuddering sigh.

“Don’t,” he says. “If we’re going to end this, then… don’t.” He can’t be around Evan like this. How could he possibly bear seeing his lips, feeling his fingers, without craving what he once had? He messed it all up, like he always does. Once a fuckup, always a fuckup. 

“Sorry,” Evan says, and lets his hand fall away. “Should I, um… should I go?”

“Yeah, probably.” Jared swallows a sob- he can’t cry now, not in front of Evan of all people; not only would it be mortifying, but then Evan would start crying, and then Jared would have to hold him, because what else is he supposed to do?, and that would just make this stupid, life-ruining crush worse. “I, uh, I can drive you back home if you want,” he says, even though he knows it’ll kill him if he does.

Straightening up, Evan lifts his head from Jared’s shoulder and shakes it. “No, it’s okay,” he says, “I’ll call Mom.”

“Cool.” Jared keeps his eyes trained on the wall, not watching as Evan stands up to leave. “I’ll, um… I’ll see you at school tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah,” Evan says, “see ya.”

 

Jared and Evan don’t talk much anymore.


	11. "Am I dead?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide and emetophobia. Also, thank you to Lucy (andtheywerer0ommates on tumblr) for the advice on how to make it not weird.

Jared doesn't believe in fate.  He's never been the type to have faith in what can't be proven. Still, there has to have been something that guided him to the park tonight, that led him into the path of Connor Murphy.

The night is still, crickets chirping, clouds covering the moon; Jared uses his phone to illuminate the path beneath his feet in lieu of moonlight. He's not certain why he's here, truth be told; he hasn't come out to this park in years, probably since the sixth grade, and it's not as if he came to spin on the tire swing or anything. 

There comes a clattering noise, the sound of something shifting, and he pauses mid-step. Seated on the bench a few yards away is the shape of a person, one that he didn't notice until now. He squints into the dim evening and eventually puts a name to the obscured face: “Connor?”

Connor isn't listening. He tips his head back, and Jared catches sight of what made the shifting noise: a bottle of pills. As Jared watches, paralyzed with shock, Connor downs the bottle, then pulls out a bottle of water and takes a long, desperate drink from it. Holy  _ fucking  _ shit.

Berating himself for not intervening sooner, Jared rushes forward to kneel down in front of Connor, who, while not in his death throes yet, isn't looking too hot. People don't tend to when they're trying to kill themselves. “Uh, shit, shit, shit,” Jared mumbles, and tries, in his panicked state, to think of what to do. He needs to induce vomiting, right?

“Get the fuck  _ off  _ of me,” Connor says as Jared stands up and places a hand on the back of his neck. He makes an attempt to say something else, Jared's pretty sure, but it’s futile, because he’s sticking his fingers into his throat and wiggling them around to try to trigger his gag reflex, and Jesus, is Connor  _ biting  _ him? Jared knew he was a freak, but damn.

“Stop it, asshole, I’m trying to save your life,” he says, and prays that he never has to do this again, because not only does it probably count as trauma to see someone attempt suicide in front of him, but sticking his fingers in someone else’s mouth is, like, super weird. 

Luckily for him, but unluckily for his shoes, Connor’s gag reflex is strong, and Jared turns his head away as he barfs up partly-digested pills onto his sneakers. It’s pretty disgusting, but it’s better than, like, dealing with a dead body, even the dead body of someone he barely knows and who kind of intimidates him. 

With a sigh, Jared flops down onto the bench beside Connor and kicks his shoes off; he’ll throw them out after all this is over. Instead of worrying about that, he pulls Connor to him, allowing him to lie limp against him. 

“Am I dead?” Connor asks softly, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Is this a dream?”

“You’re not dead, Connor,” Jared replies. “I saved  your life; the least you could do is thank me.”

“I didn’t want you to. You couldn’t have just let me die?” Connor’s voice is weak and a kind of sad that Jared’s only ever heard from Evan before. The kind of sad that’s completely given up.

Jared shakes his head. “No can do. And did you  _ have  _ to bite my fingers? Your name isn’t fuckin’ Charlie.”

“That’s the lamest attempt at a joke I’ve heard in years,” Connor says, but the tip of his mouth still ticks up into a half-smile- or less than that; maybe about an eighth-smile. “...Why would you help me? You barely even know me. I didn't even think you like me, given the ‘freak’ comment earlier today.”

“I mean… you're not  _ that  _ bad,” Jared says. “Not awful enough that I'd just let you die.”

“Well.” Connor falls quiet before Jared nudges him, at which point he continues. “Uh, I guess… I would've done the same for you. But I'm still not going to thank you.”

Honestly, Jared doesn't know what he expected, and he doesn't really feel like having an argument over this. “Fine,” he says. “But you've gotta promise me you won't do this again.”

Connor exhales a low, trembling sigh. “Fine,” he says. “I promise.”

God knows it's probably a lie, that Connor would sneak back here as soon as possible and try to off himself again, but Jared will take what he can get. He slings an arm around Connor, pulling him closer, and closes his eyes, allowing the sound of crickets to overtake him.


	12. Mamihlapinatapei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

Evan is completely and irrevocably in love with Jared. He's been this way for what feels like years but is probably only a few months, ever since Jared helped him out of the worst panic attack he'd had in ages.

Jared, too, is completely and irrevocably in love with Evan, and has been since freshman year, whereupon he started pushing Evan away before Evan could reject him himself. Still, caught between yearning and distancing, he ends up inviting Evan over for a Halloween get-together anyway.

When Evan gets to the Kleinman house, the door is already unlocked; he lets himself in, allowing the screen door to fall shut behind him. “Jared?” he calls. “You around?”

“Right, because I'm just gonna stand you up for shits and giggles,” Jared says, rounding the corner into the front hallway. He's got black cat ears on (which is cute, and weirdly hot on him), but no costume otherwise. “Come on.  _ Beetlejuice  _ awaits.” He gestures with his head toward the family room, where his family's got this swanky flat screen TV that Evan's always been jealous of.

Evan follows obediently and is greeted by a large bowl of popcorn and the title screen of the aforementioned movie. Jared's cat, a huge ragdoll lovingly nicknamed Bitchard, grumbles as she heaves herself up off the couch and runs away. “Uh, bye,” Evan says, then turns his attention to Jared. 

For the briefest of moments, there's a smile on Jared's face- not his typical cocky one, or his goofy one for when he's adorably proud of his own awful jokes, but a tender one. It vanishes in an instant, though, replaced by a straight face as he asks, “You ready for this?”

“Uh, yeah,” Evan says, taken aback. What a strange look it was for Jared to be wearing. Still, as long as he's smiling, it can't be bad, right?

As the movie begins, Jared turns off the lamp on the side table, drenching the two of them in friendly darkness. Evan shifts so that he's curled against the arm of the couch, and Jared lies, legs crossed, with his back against him. (Evan's heart, of course, nearly bursts.)

All's good! All's great. The movie is fun, goth Winona Ryder rules, he's pressed up against the boy he's completely enamored with- Evan's fully content. Except, about 3/4ths of the way through the movie, Jared falls into a light sleep. Evan doesn't notice until he remarks on the animation and Jared doesn't reply, but, when he steals a glance over his left shoulder, there he is, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, breathing slowly.

He knows it's a little creepy, knows that maybe he shouldn't, but Evan stares. He's seen Jared sleep before, sure, but this is the first time since he realized he's maddeningly in love with the guy, and the warmth blooming in his chest almost hurts.

As all good things, though, it must come to an end; as the movie ends, Jared stretches out his arms- apologizing, of course, when he punches Evan in the jaw- and, adjusting his position to look at Evan, asks, “What'd I miss?”

Evan, lost for words at the sight of him, gives a stiff shrug and says, “Uh. I dunno. Stuff?”

Jared rolls his eyes as he does so often. “Very specific.” After a pause: “What're you looking at me like that for?”

“I wasn't- I-” Evan clears his throat, searching for the right thing to say and coming up with nothing. “Um, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You just had this… smile on your face, when I woke up,” Jared says, and chuckles. “Weirdo.”

“Alright, if you say so.”

Still, Jared looks at him with that same loving gaze, a mirror of his own expression, and Evan can't help but think that maybe,  _ maybe,  _ there's something there.


	13. "You're safe now, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to publish this one yd oops

When Evan's breathing finally steadies, there's a hand on his shoulder, gripping gently but firmly. He stares at it out of the corner of his eye for a few seconds before his gaze travels up the arm and lands on Jared's face. “...Hey,” he says, voice raw, throat scratchy.

“Hey,” Jared echoes, and, as he speaks, light catches on his tear-stained cheeks; before Evan can get a good look, he wipes the wetness from his skin, leaving a moist streak behind. “You're safe now, okay?” When Evan nods, Jared adds, “Um, what happened?”

Evan takes a couple deep breaths before he answers, allowing his environment to come back to him. Dirty linoleum lies, unforgiving, beneath his palms; above him, fluorescent lights flicker on occasion. He shakes his head to clear it, then says, “I, um… started having a panic attack, and then someone, I dunno, shoved me, I think. Why are you here?”

“That's my classroom right there,” Jared says, gesturing with his thumb toward a nearby room. “I heard you shriek a little. My teacher let me go.”

“Ah. Well, thanks,” Evan says, and rubs his arm with one still-shaking hand. Jared doesn't move his own. “You really didn't have to; I could've dealt with it on my own.”

“I may be an asshole, but I'm not a douchebag. Of course I had to help.” Jared- much to Evan's disbelief- begins to rub his shoulder in a way that he could almost describe as tender. It sparks something in Evan's heart, not quite uncomfortable but worrisome all the same. “Um, are you okay?” Jared asks, and pauses, but when Evan nods, he continues, even softer than before.

Eventually, both to Evan's relief and disappointment, Jared takes his hand away and instead takes Evan's in his own. “Can you get up?” he asks. Evan nods, and Jared pulls him up, grunting quietly with the strain.

There's a moment of silence as they stand their looking at each other, eyes locked, hands together. Then, Jared drops Evan's hand and clears his throat. “Well, um… I should get back to class.”

Evan nods, probably too quickly. “Yeah, probably. My teacher will be wondering where I went too. I don't know how long I've been gone.”

“Okay,” Jared says, and gazes at Evan for a moment longer before sticking his hands in his pockets. “If you figure out who shoved you…”

“Uh, I really have no idea,” Evan says, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“Oh. Well, I was gonna say, y'know, I could bust out the ol’ Krav Maga.”

“I find it hard to believe that you know Krav Maga. No offense.”

“I'm just full of surprises,” Jared says, and winks, earning him a roll of the eyes from Evan.

“Well, um. Thanks again,” Evan says. “I'll see you later, okay?”

Jared chuckles, a breathy laugh that, under any other circumstances, would probably have Evan breathing wrong. “Yeah, alright. See you later.” With a short wave, he's off, back to class.

Evan stares after for a few moments, then shoves his own hands in his pockets and walks away.


	14. "Is that blood?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for self harm/cutting.   
> Takes place in the SNSA 'verse, but there's no need to read the fic to understand.

Bacon (made from turkey, at Evan's insistence) sizzles on the skillet as Jared stands at the stove, humming along to a PUP song while he carefully flips the strips over. He's perfectly content, just sitting here making breakfast for his boyfriends, but the atmosphere changes abruptly when Connor steps into the room.

Evan is the first to speak, though not before clearing his throat first. “Um, is that blood…?”

Jared turns away from the stove and toward the doorway, where Connor stands. When Jared scans him with a nervous gaze, his wide eyes fall on the inside of Connor's calf. Red stains lie in blotted lines on the grey fabric of his pajama pants, and Jared's heart plummets. “Connor…” 

It's a well known fact that nobody in the Kleinman-Hansen-Murphy household is full of mentally ill bastards. Connor cutting is no surprise, what with the heaps of trauma he's been through that Jared and Evan barely know the beginning of. Still, it nauseates Jared; what other reaction is he supposed to have? 

“What?” Connor grumbles, looking away. There's a look resembling guilt on his face, one that's been on it plenty of times. It never gets easier to see.

“You've been cutting again,” Evan says, voice soft.

Jared turns the heat off so the bacon doesn't burn,  then crosses the room to take Connor in further. His face is pale, and he's not making eye contact with him or Evan; he looks almost like a kicked puppy. He's guilty. Why is he guilty? “Connor,” Jared says, “what's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong,” Connor replies, hunching his shoulders and glancing down at the hardwood floor. “So I relapsed a little. I'll be fine.”

“Did you at least clean it?” Evan says, and Jared marvels internally at how in control he seems in a situation like this. The reason for that is one he'd rather not think about. 

“I can help you, if you want,” he says, desperate to be a part of the conversation regardless of whether Connor and Evan want him to be or not.

“No, I'm fine…”

“It'll make me feel better.”

Connor snorts, laughter dry and raw, but gives in. “Alright, fine. If you insist.”

 

Normally, seeing Connor pantsless would be fun, but it's a bit more somber as the three of them crowd into the bathroom, Jared and Evan staring with concern at the mess of cuts on Connor's leg. Jared's come prepared with a package of sanitizing wipes, bought specifically for this purpose long before Connor moved in. He presses a wipe to the first of the cuts, and Connor takes a sharp inhale, squeezing his eyes shut. “Jesus.”

“I know,” Jared says, “I know.” He longs desperately to hold Connor in his arms, tell him that things will be alright, but he has to at least get through this first. He drags the wipe down one cluster of cuts, then the next, stopping momentarily whenever Connor grimaces. “You know,” he says, a weak attempt to bring levity to the situation, “I'm surprised you don't like this part, given that you apparently like pain.”

Evan gives Jared a light smack on the back of the head, not harsh or abusive, just scolding. “Don't be a dick.”

“It's okay,” Connor says, and, as he speaks, Jared wipes off a few more cuts without so much as a wince from him. Just gotta keep him talking. “Sorry for, um, making you do all this. I just… I remembered some stuff that I wish I hadn't.”

Jared's face falls. God knows what that could be. He doesn't know everything about Connor's insanely tragic backstory- if this is anything to go by, nobody does, not even Connor himself- but what he does know is heartbreaking. “Are you, like, okay?” he asks.

Connor shrugs. “Better now,” he answers. “Got you guys with me.” His words and the smile in its wake are tentative, unsure, but Jared'll take it.

“There. All done,” he says, and tosses the bloodied wipe in the trash.

“Thank you. Um, a lot.” Connor gives a weak smile, and, despite everything, Jared's heart is warmed.


	15. "Let me help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of daily updates like i'd gotten in the routine for, i've been sleeping thru optimal posting time lol

If there’s anything Jared hates- besides being nagged, waking up early for school, and the dirty looks people give him when he attempts to be funny- it’s crying in front of other people. Still, here he is, chin quivering, seated on the end of Evan’s bed. He sucks in a breath and lets it out in a shuddering sigh, and, when he squeezes his eyes shut, a tear slides gracefully down his cheek.

“Um. Were you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Evan asks, placing a hand on his back.

With a swift mental kick to his own ass, it occurs to Jared that he basically just waltzed in here choking back tears without telling his poor dear boyfriend what the hell’s going on. He clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair, and says, “I, uh, got in a fight with my stepdad.” 

Evan deflates, the tension seeping out of his shoulders and being replaced with a visibly burdensome sorrow. He begins to rub Jared’s back in wide, slow circles, and Jared, perpetually touch-starved, leans back into it. “What was it about?” Evan asks. “Um- if you don’t mind me asking; you don’t have to tell me or anything…”

Jared manages a shrug, though it’s barely anything, what with his hunched shoulders. “Grades, at first. And then my work ethic, and then I guess I apparently mouthed off at him or whatever, because then he started yelling more.” He blinks his stinging eyes again, and more tears evacuate themselves from his ducts- not as if there were a fire, but perhaps a particularly bad smell. “I, um. He can be pretty intense sometimes, I guess.”

“Let me help,” Evan says, and, as Jared tries to even out his embarrassingly shaky breathing, he moves his hands to his shoulders. 

Jared frowns, surprised, when Evan begins to massage them, pressing his palms in first before sweeping his thumbs across his clothed skin. He chokes out a laugh and says, “When did you learn how to give shoulder massages?”

“I, um… well, when I was in middle school, I learned how so I could surprise my mom with one when she got home late,” Evan admits, sounding weirdly ashamed, which is ridiculous.

“God, you are just as cute as a freakin’ button,” Jared says, and manages a smile. “How come you were holding out on me?”

“Well, in my defense, this was the first time you've shown up in my room crying.”

“Touché.” Jared takes a deep breath in, then out, then in again, and finds that he's stopped crying. “Okay, okay. I think I’m good.” When Evan takes his hands away, though, Jared corrects himself: “No, keep going, though.”

Evan snorts. “You’re so demanding.” Still, he obeys, continuing to squeeze and stroke Jared’s shoulders until he’s practically melting into the touch. 

“Yeah, you love me, though,” Jared says, and even grins this time. All the trials of the past couple hours, though they’ll still have their repercussions, seem like a dream when he’s here like this with Evan. 

“I do,” Evan says. “Love you.”

“Well, good. ‘Cuz I love you, too.”


	16. "Are you stupid or stupid?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking- "cj, didn't you just write a truth or drink scene?"  
> I only know the one drinking game.  
> TW for alcohol and car crashes.

Connor and Jared's evening plans consist of this: sneak in some blue raspberry vodka, courtesy of Connor and his fake ID; get sloshed, obviously; play truth or drink; kiss? (This, of course, is wishful thinking on Connor's part. Jared's got plenty of allure, and is, like, the only person who hangs out with him; how was he supposed to not have feelings for him?)

Step one has been taken care of, and two and three are in progress. The bottle sits between the two of them as they each sit, cross-legged, on the floor of Jared's basement. “So,” Jared says, swirling his vodka like a proper connoisseur, “What's, uh, your deepest, darkest secret?”

Connor straight-up laughs at that. He can't even let himself know; God help him, he loves Jared, but why would he tell him? “Are you stupid, or are you stupid? You're gonna need to get me a  _ lot  _ drunker before you ask me that,” he says, and throws his head back to drink his shot. As he pours a new one for himself, he asks, “If you had to make out with anyone at our school, who would you choose? And if you say Zoe-”

“You  _ know  _ I'm gay, dude.”

“-just to rile me up, I'm taking my vodka and leaving.”

“It's not Zoe,” Jared says. “Um, okay, so, what's the worst-”

“Uh,  _ no,  _ ‘not Zoe’ isn't an answer,” Connor says, and rolls his eyes. “Come on. Spill it or take the shot.”

Jared worries his lower lip- which doesn't do anything nice to Connor's heart- and mumbles something nearly inaudible.

“Huh?” Connor asks, leaning in so he can hear better.

“I said, I'll take the shot,” Jared says, and does so; with a grimace, he wipes his mouth and adds, “God, I don't get how you actually like this stuff. Tastes like cat piss.”

“You'd know.”

“Shut up.”

Connor's face lights up in a grin as he snort-laughs, clapping Jared on the back. “You're a dick.”

“You're dickier. C'mon, you ready for this question or not?”

Connor stares intently at Jared, slowly taking in his features: heterochromic eyes, matching his own; soft-looking brown hair that he’d love to run his fingers through; his lips, where he can't afford to linger… except he is. “Ohhhhkay,” he breathes, “hit me.”

Jared eyes him dubiously, but says nothing; instead, he asks, “How about you?” 

“How- me?” Connor says, and berates himself internally for stammering like an idiot. To be fair, he's drunk, but still. “I, um.”

There are a few ways this could turn out. One, he tells Jared, he’s disgusted and tells him to get the fuck out, he does so and drunk drives into a tree (probably only half on accident). Two, he doesn’t tell Jared, gets even drunker, and fesses up to something even more embarrassing later on. Three, he tells Jared, and Jared doesn’t give a shit and is chill with it. Four… Connor swallows sharply, a shiver running down his spine at the thought. Four, Jared reciprocates.

“Well?” Jared asks, mocking a tap of a watch he doesn’t have. “Truth or drink, Connor. Ya gotta do one or the other.”

“Jesus, fine,” Connor says. “Um.” He meets Jared’s eyes for a moment before flicking his gaze down to his lips. Shit. There’s no way he could say no to even the possibility of those lips. Even if Jared kicks him out, death by car crash can’t be  _ too  _ bad, can it? “Um. It’s you.”

Jared barks out a laugh at that. “It’s called  _ truth  _ or drink. Who is it for real?”

Perplexed, Connor tucks a lock of hair behind one ear. “Um, what?”

“You  _ are  _ joking, right?” Jared asks, narrowing his eyes. “Like, you’re pulling my leg here?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Connor didn’t expect to have to say it  _ twice.  _ Is this just plain Jared insecurity, or is it about to get him hatecrimed? No, that’s stupid, a gay guy wouldn’t hatecrime a bi guy, but… Connor takes a long, deep breath in, then sighs it out. “No,” he says, “I’m not joking.”

Jared blinks a few times, slowly at first and then rapidly, then swallows and says, “You- you’d make out with me.”

“Uh, yeah,” Connor says, turning his attention to his hands as he picks off a hangnail. “Look, if you wanna kick me out or something...”

“What? No. This is just…” Jared rubs his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. “A lot to deal with when I’m drunk.”

Connor’s face falls, and he turns away, tugging sharply at a lock of hair in an effort to distract himself from how he’s probably just fucked up his only real friendship. Plus, he deserves the pain, he’s such an  _ idiot,  _ God-

And then Jared is right by him, breath warming his ear. “Connor?”

Connor takes one shallow breath, then another, and nods. “Jared.”

“Get over here.”

Connor turns back to him, stares into those blue-brown eyes, and, in a moment, is swept up in a deep kiss. It’s sloppy, sure, no thanks to the alcohol and Jared’s probable inexperience, but it’s happening, fucking finally. He cradles Jared’s neck with one hand and places the other on the small of his back, holding him tight, never willing to let him go.

A lot of things happen that night. Some are embarrassing, some are overwhelming, but they’re all, put simply,  _ really fucking good.  _ It’s well worth the killer hangover Connor wakes up with, alongside the numerous hickeys. Yeah, definitely worth it.


	17. "I've never felt like this about anyone, and honestly, it scares me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote this while drunk so it probably sux lol

Connor’s not exactly certain if this means anything. It could just be for fun, just a friends with benefits thing, to Jared. It could just be a thing to pass the time, but… that’s not what he wants. He pulls Jared in by the cheeks, pressing their lips together with a ferocity that only attempts to approximate his real passion.

To his credit, Jared is a pretty good kisser. God knows where he learned it from, since the guy’s obviously a huge virgin (if he had his way, Connor would change that), but maybe it’s natural. He runs his hands through Connor’s hair, which sparks something dreadful in his heart. Oh, God. He’s in deep.

He needs to do something about this.

“Jared,” he murmurs when the two of them break apart, “I need to tell you something.”

“Oh, believe me, I already know I’m hot,” Jared says, and puts one hand on his hip, the other behind his head. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“No, no, it’s…” Connor takes a deep breath, sighs it out. How is he even supposed to say this? He hates baring his heart, being vulnerable. “I’ve… never felt this about anyone, and honestly, it scares me.”

“Felt this way?” Jared asks. “Like..”

“Romantically.”

“Oh.”

Connor’s face falls. Of  _ course  _ he doesn’t like him back. Why should he? His looks are alright, but his personality… he’s just the local freak. Why would Jared like him? At least he’s closer to normal. “So I assume this is one-sided,” he says. “Look, I can go-”

“Wait,” Jared says, and grabs Connor’s arm. “I don’t want you do go.”

Connor blinks. When has someone  _ not  _ wanted him to go? Not at school. Not at home. But with Jared… “Does that mean… um…”

“Of  _ course  _ I like you back,” Jared says. “Why else would I be making out with you, like, 24/7?”

“I just thought… maybe we were just FWBs,” Connor explains, squirming. “That maybe you didn’t like me like that.”

Jared leans in, pressing a kiss to Connor’s cheek. “Of course I like you like that,” he says. “Really, I… like you a lot. I haven’t really felt this before, either.”

A slow, cautious smile spreads across Connor’s features, and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Wow. Alright. So… what’re we gonna do about it?”

“I dunno,” Jared admits. “Um. You wanna date about it? I can take you out to DQ or something.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, “I’d like that.”


	18. "Why are you shaking?"

It’s not a noise that wakes Jared up in the middle of the night but a physical sensation. He’d fallen asleep with Connor’s arm around him, but now he’s turned away, back pressed against his, and shaking. Jared squints into the nighttime darkness and grabs his glasses from his nightstand so he can see literally anything ever, then sits up and turns toward Connor. “Why are you shaking?” he asks, though he can already guess the answer.

Connor doesn’t move; instead, he mumbles, “I’m cold.” It’s a plausible answer, since he sleeps shirtless, but he’s never complained about the cold before. Also, his voice sounds off- crooked, perhaps, or clotted.

Still, Jared doesn’t want to pry- no matter how much he loves him, Connor is still volatile (especially before he’s had coffee), and he doesn’t want to bug him. “Let me warm you up, then,” he says, and lies down, pulling Connor to his chest. He places a sprawling hand on Connor’s own, a chaste touch that he hopes will comfort him regardless of why he’s shaking.

Connor breathes a quaking sigh  and places his hand over Jared’s, curling his fingers into the spaces between his. “Thanks,” he says, barely more than a whisper.

Jared nods against Connor’s neck, then sighs. “But are you really cold?”

Connor is silent for a few moments, and Jared can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he considers what to say. “...I am,” he says slowly. “Cold.”

“Okay.” Jared presses a kiss to the crook of Connor’s neck and closes his eyes. But, when he hears Connor sniffle, he opens them again and frowns. “Connor…”

“Fine,” Connor says, the words falling weakly from his lips. “Fine. I’m not cold, okay?”

“Then what?” Jared asks. “What’s wrong?” He pulls his hand out of Connor’s grip and runs it along the slope between Connor’s ribs and his hipbone. 

“I was holding you,” Connor answers, and Jared nods against his neck. “And… I was just suddenly afraid of losing you. And so I held you tighter, but you pushed me away in your sleep, and…”

Even though he knows it’s not his fault, a sliver of guilt worms its way into his heart, and he closes his eyes tight. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Connor says, shaking his head. “I’m just being stupid. I always am.”

“You’re not.” Jared kisses his neck again, then says, “Do you want to hold me?”

Connor nods, gratitude radiating from him, and turns around; for a moment, the two of them are facing each other, and Jared leans in for a quick kiss on the lips before turning around as well. There’s a tense moment where Connor’s arms aren’t around him, and all Jared can feel is his breath on  the back of his neck. Then the tension is broken, and Connor slings an arm over his torso, and a leg over his; Jared can’t help but smile. 

“Goodnight, Connor,” he says, closing his eyes.

“Goodnight,” Connor replies. A moment later: “Don’t leave me?”

“Of course not.”


	19. "Your life was my life's best part."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide. It's okay, everyone lived.

There’s a certain kind of horror that clutches Jared’s heart when he steps into the hospital room. It twists and turns it, squeezing until he’s certain it’ll pop. Connor is so pale, so quiet; he hardly believes he’s alive, but that’s what the doctors said. Unless he kicked the bucket in the past thirty seconds, he has to be, but… he barely looks it.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Connor’s voice startles Jared out of his thoughts, and he takes in a tense inhalation as he comes back to reality. He takes a step closer to Connor’s bed, then another, and somehow makes it to the chair beside it. “Hey,” he says softly, longing to hug him but knowing that he can’t. “Um. How’re you feeling?” It’s a stupid question, but what else could he possibly say? Now’s not the time for his usual dickish demeanor, and without that, he’s lost.

Connor smiles that wry smile of his and laughs, devoid of all humor. “Not great. Getting your stomach pumped isn’t very fun.”

Jared bites the inside of his cheek, pressing down until he’s certain he’ll bite a chunk off if he continues. “Yeah,” he says, “I would, um… I would assume not.” There are more things he wants to ask: why did you do it? Could I have helped? What if it had worked?

Connor fixes him with a somber stare, then reaches out to wrap a pale hand around one of Jared’s. “I would ask what’s wrong, but…” He sighs. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“I… I just.” Jared squeezes his eyes shut tight and prays to a God he doesn’t really believe in that he won’t start crying. “Connor, your life is my life’s best part. I don’t know what I would do if…”

“If it had worked,” Connor finishes for him. “I know.” He squeezes Jared’s hand tighter, and Jared threads his fingers through the spaces between his. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s more like… I  _ wasn’t  _ thinking.”

“You really just follow your impulses, don’t you,” Jared says, though it doesn’t come off as a question. “I say this with all the love in my heart, but Connor Murphy, you are  _ so  _ stupid sometimes.”

Connor laughs again, but his smile still doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re damn right about that.” He licks his lips, then adds, “You know what the worst part is?”

Oh, God. Jared takes a deep, shuddering breath, squeezes Connor’s hand tighter. “What is it?”

“I can’t even promise I won’t do it again.” Connor turns away, hair falling into his face. “I wish I could. But I can’t.”

Again: oh, God. “Connor,  _ please,”  _ Jared says- rather, pleads. “You can’t do this again. You could  _ die.”  _ Obviously, that was the point, but he can’t picture a life without Connor. What would he even do? He has Evan, of course, but Evan’s not his boyfriend. (Dare he say the love of his life? Okay, that’s a little too cheesy, but it was worth a shot.)

“I know that,” Connor says. “I’m not stupid. I just can’t control this shit.”

“Then let me help you.” Jared sighs and rubs one tired eye with the ball of his free hand. Looking around to check that nobody else is around, he murmurs, “I’d do anything for you. Okay? I love you.”

Connor turns his head back to Jared, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile on his face. “I know,” he says. “I love you, too.”

“Then let me help.” Jared lets his head hang down as he presses their joined hands to his forehead. “I need you to let me help you.”

“...I can’t promise you that it’ll work,” Connor warns.

“I don’t care,” Jared says, although he does. “But I’ll try anyway.”


	20. "I was just looking out for you."

Jared’s got a lot of questions.  _ When did it occur to you that this whole Connor business was more important than your oldest friendship?,  _ for one.  _ Did you ever know how I felt about you?,  _ for another. (‘Felt’ is too decisive of a word- is it past tense? Or is he still caught in the present, somewhere between over it and still hopelessly pining?)

When Evan shows up at his doorstep two days before he leaves for college, though, all Jared can ask is, “Why didn’t you tell anyone about me?”

Evan scratches his freckled arm just below the hem of his sleeve. “I… I was just looking out for you,” he says, hardly more than a mumble. “Just because I had to ruin my own life doesn’t mean I had to ruin yours.”

Jared huffs out something that could be compared to a laugh and glances away. “Well, congrats, Evan. That’s the least selfish thing you’ve done for me in a long time.” It’s biting, perhaps cruel, but he’s had no catharsis these past months, no way of letting his feelings out. It’s miraculous, frankly, that insults aren’t spilling from his lips, what with the way Evan gutted him like a fish.

“I know,” Evan says. “I just… I don’t know. If you want me to leave, I can, but-”

“No,” Jared says before he even realizes his lips are moving. “Don’t leave. Um.” He grits his teeth until his jaw aches, sorting through the options in his head. For a long time, he didn’t want to speak to Evan or have anything to do with them, because, well, he was being an asshole. Looking at him now, though- subdued, submissive, nothing like he was the last time they talked- he just feels… an ache. A longing. “You can come in,” he says, stepping aside, and it occurs to him that he’s letting him in in more ways than one.

Evan dips his head and obeys, kicking his shoes off as soon as he walks in the door, just like old times. Jared silently thanks the God that’s probably not out there that his parents aren’t home; they’d ask a bunch of questions, and the only questions that need to be here are the ones that he has for Evan.

There’s silence for a few minutes, then, as they sit on the couch in Jared’s living room. Evan stares blankly ahead, hands on his thighs, shaking his leg; Jared lies curled halfway into a fetal position against the arm. “...Why are you even here, anyway?” he asks, words cutting through the air with the precision- and sharpness- of a scalpel.

“I thought it was obvious,” Evan says. He glances over toward Jared, then flicks his gaze away as soon as they meet eyes. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Oh.” Jared saw that coming- why else would he be here?- but actually hearing it has his lungs working the wrong way. “Uh, go ahead, then.”

Evan takes a deep breath in, then lets it out; Jared’s half afraid he’ll start hyperventilating, and then he’d have to help him out of a panic attack, which he hasn’t done in ages for… well… obvious reasons, and that’s the last thing he needs right now. Still, Evan’s breathing remains steady as he says, “I’m sorry.”

Jared blinks. It’s… anticlimactic. It’s not what he was hoping for, not some proclamation that they’ve been friends for a decade and that he treated him like he was only good for backdating emails. Just two words. “...Sorry for what?” he presses.

“Uh.” Evan bites down on his lip, and Jared can barely tear his eyes away. Yeah, ‘felt’ definitely isn’t the right word for it. “For… treating you like shit. Like you weren’t my friend. And for telling you you didn’t have anybody else.” 

“You were right, though,” Jared admits. “It was… only you.” It feels disgusting to say, to subject himself to being known, but it’s the truth.

“Oh.” Evan sighs, squeezes his eyes shut tight, then turns to face Jared head-on. “I never… I never meant to leave you alone. I didn’t think any of that would happen.”

“I know,” Jared says simply. No forgiveness, no denial. Just acknowledgement. “I want to say that I forgive you. Really.”

“But you don’t,” Evan says, rubbing at the hem of his polo shirt with shaking fingers. “I get it. Look, seriously, I can go if you want, I won’t come back-”

“I never said I’d  _ never  _ forgive you.” Jared rolls his eyes. “You’re always catastrophizing like that.”

“Oh.” Evan swallows, wide-eyed. “Then…”

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” It’s not that Jared  _ wants  _ to be mad. The anger still resides in his brain like the gap where a tooth used to be, tempting him to tongue it, to torture himself with misery like he’d never experienced before. But, faced with an apology, he still finds that he can’t quite accept it.

“Okay,” Evan says after a pause. “So…”

“So,” Jared says, and sighs. “Watch your phone.”

“Okay.” Evan nods, over and over again, until he’s surely dizzy. “Okay.”

For the first time since the doorbell rang, Jared manages a smile. “Cool.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love you!  
> Here are the prompts I've been using:  
> https://techconsigliere.tumblr.com/post/183883923972/drabble-list-2  
> https://techconsigliere.tumblr.com/post/181866332847/send-me-a-word-and-a-characterseriespairing-and  
> https://techconsigliere.tumblr.com/post/181189682532/drabble-prompts  
> https://techconsigliere.tumblr.com/post/183026945327/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a  
> https://techconsigliere.tumblr.com/post/184216414797/drabbles-send-me-characters-and-a-prompt  
> https://techconsigliere.tumblr.com/post/184328954737/five-word-prompts  
> Please feel free to send one!
> 
> Also: as per usual, please read Saints and Sinners Alike by knourish (OceanicWaters). Some of these ficlets will be in that universe, so you might want to brush up on it.


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